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Jewish Inspiration. Sustainable Communities.Fri, 18 Jan 2019 18:18:56 +0000en-UShourly1https://wordpress.org/?v=5.0.3Kaddish for my fatherhttps://hazon.org/kaddish-for-my-father/
Thu, 17 Jan 2019 22:38:14 +0000http://hazon.org/?p=67774Thursday, January 17, 2019 | 11 Shvat 5779 by Nigel Savage Dear All, This is a longish email. Just a heads-up. Our Tu B’Shvat haggadah has sold out, but if you’d like to download it for free, you can do so here. We’ll edit it and amend it for next year, so if you use it this weekend and have edits or suggestions for us, please email them to tubshvat@hazon.org. Here’s a list of Tu B’Shvat events you might be interested in, including a day of learning followed by dinner and a seder at the JCC Harlem on Sunday. — Last year Tu B’Shvat fell on a Tuesday evening. We’d arrived that morning in Johannesburg, and just a few days before I’d Googled and found a Tu B’Shvat seder. It was in a place called Huddle Park. We didn’t know anyone there, but it was my 33rd consecutive Tu B’Shvat seder, and it was absolutely one of the most beautiful. This very lush park, an urban wetland, full of long grasses and exotic trees. There was a long long silent meditation walk that went on for almost an hour. I walked in the gathering darkness, and the huge full moon of […]

by Nigel Savage

Dear All,

This is a longish email. Just a heads-up.

Our Tu B’Shvat haggadah has sold out, but if you’d like to download it for free, you can do so here. We’ll edit it and amend it for next year, so if you use it this weekend and have edits or suggestions for us, please email them to tubshvat@hazon.org. Here’s a list of Tu B’Shvat events you might be interested in, including a day of learning followed by dinner and a seder at the JCC Harlem on Sunday.

—

Last year Tu B’Shvat fell on a Tuesday evening. We’d arrived that morning in Johannesburg, and just a few days before I’d Googled and found a Tu B’Shvat seder. It was in a place called Huddle Park.

We didn’t know anyone there, but it was my 33rd consecutive Tu B’Shvat seder, and it was absolutely one of the most beautiful. This very lush park, an urban wetland, full of long grasses and exotic trees. There was a long long silent meditation walk that went on for almost an hour. I walked in the gathering darkness, and the huge full moon of Shvat came up and brought moonlight to this unfamiliar landscape.

I was thinking about my Dad as I was walking. I’d been in Manchester the week before, and he was weakening very significantly. It was a strange and intense and beautiful experience, essentially alone in Africa, in this unfamiliar place, celebrating a holiday that I love, walking, thinking about my dad.

And we got back to the hotel, tired and jetlagged, sorting stuff to go on safari the next morning, and the phone rang. It was my mother, to tell us that my Dad had died. He’d died about an hour earlier, near the end of that long silent meditation.

Thus began a year of mourning that ends this Sunday night, on Tu B’Shvat, with his first yahrtzeit.

It has been a strange year, a fuzzy year, a year in which I have followed pretty much the halachot (the traditional rules) of mourning without necessarily understanding why I was doing it. I share with you some reflections – and some statistics.

First of all: this year gave me a deeper and fresh sense of awe for the psychological acuity of Jewish tradition. In general I love Jewish tradition to start with. Not uncritically, and not without struggle, but I do assume fundamentally the wisdom of the tradition, and this year bore this out for me in very strong ways. Jewish tradition delineates time in concentric circles, radiating out from the bomb-blast of death itself, and for me those concentric circles of time mapped to the evolution of grief and sadness, loss, acceptance, and the different moods of memory.

First the period from death to the funeral. No rules, no structure, a blur of travel and details and getting there. Arriving at Heathlands, sitting with my dad’s coffin half an hour before the funeral. My friend Phil walked in and I burst into tears. The funeral itself, the hesped (eulogy), a shovel and Manchester soil, the first kaddish, and back to my Mum’s place.

And then shiva, which lifted me very considerably, this very beautiful time. Apart from walking to and from our childhood shul, with my sister, on Shabbat morning, we didn’t set foot outside the entire week. It was very strong and all those things that so many of you know and have experienced kicked in – food and family and old friends and stories and laughter and reconnecting.

And then the period after the end of shiva up to the end of shloshim, the first thirty days. This for me was characterized by the start of the process of saying kaddish. Suddenly finding a minyan for kaddish became very important to me.

Then from the end of shloshim, up through the end of the 11 months of kaddish.

And then this last month, in which one is still within the year of mourning, but ceases to say kaddish – leading up to the kaddish of yahrtzeit this coming Sunday night and Monday. That itself has been fascinating and strange – not saying kaddish, which had become a part of the structure of my day.

My dad was an accountant and he liked numbers. For many decades he played poker on Tuesday nights with “the boys” (they played into their seventies; he’d known the core members of the group since they were in primary school) – and my dad kept a written record of exactly how much he won or how much he lost.

So maybe it was obvious that I’d write down the statistics of kaddish. I was aiming to say kaddish at least once a day, knowing that I probably wouldn’t quite succeed in that. Here are some of the stats:

Turns out: I said kaddish on 408 occasions, on the 326 days I was obligated to say kaddish. (If I went to mincha and then ma’ariv I counted that as two occasions, because these were two different days, but if I was at shacharit and musaf I counted that as only one.)

The kind of minyanim at which I said kaddish was a remarkable snapshot of the world I live in – a very different one from the one in which my father said kaddish for each of his parents. Here’s how I characterized them. (This is the list of the number of distinct places I went to of each sort; obviously some of these I went to many many times. But I was interested in how many different places I said kaddish):

Virtual: 1Reform: 2Meditation: 2Conservative: 4Learning: 13 (ie learning some text, with a minyan, and then saying kaddish d’rabanan)Experimental: 14 Orthodox: 32Egal: 33Private minyan: 36 (I count as a private minyan, eg, saying kaddish at the Israel Ride or at a Hazon board meeting or a Romemu board meeting. And this category includes many of the ones counted also as “learning” or “meditation” if those latter two were in the context of a private minyan.)

I said kaddish at Stenecourt in Manchester and Dunstan Road in London. I said kaddish at both New London and Great Portland Street. I said kaddish at Young Israel of Brookline and at Dovid Ben Nuchim in Michigan. I said kaddish at the kotel, and at 770 Eastern Parkway. I said kaddish at Avigail & Sarah’s wedding and at the shiva for Bernie Glassman, z”l. I said kaddish at Gate 65, Terminal B, EWR. I said kaddish at the Carlebach shul and at Vorhand’s, and at the Friday night minyan that has bubbled up in the basement of my building. I said kaddish at Larchmont Reform Temple and at Zion, in Jerusalem. I said kaddish in the beautiful and ancient shul in Venice’s ghetto. I said kaddish at Sukkahfest and, separately, with the Adamahniks.

I very rarely found the experience to be “meaningful” and I struggle consistently with the notion of “spirituality” and the notion of what it is that we are meant to “get” from davening. Rightly or wrongly I have internalized from somewhere [ok; from my Dad, z”l] some notion of ol malchut shamayim, essentially of doing it because that’s what you do. In my lifetime it’s a position that has been put most strongly by the late Yeshayahu Leibowitz z”l, you do it because that is commanded to us as a Jew.

Now I’m aware how ridiculously and bizarrely inconsistent this is on my part. Leibowitz, at least (as far as I know) was scrupulously observant (orthoprax, if not indeed orthodox), and I am not.

But the paradox of postmodernity is the over-entitled self. And on the one hand, this very litany of do-it-your-own-way kaddish is testament to my own over-entitled self; someone who really did accept ol malchut shamayim in a traditional lineage wouldn’t have counted umpteen of the places or ways that I davened. And yet – and despite this – in quite a strong sense I’m aware that I really was doing this, including in liberal or egal or unorthodox fashions, nevertheless in a strongly traditional way. I wasn’t trying to “get” something from it. Not in a religious sense, or a spiritual sense. I didn’t think that I was somehow doing something for my father in some theological sphere – I don’t have any of that theology at all. My father is buried in Agecroft cemetery in Manchester, and his body, this Tu B’Shvat as every day, is becoming compost for the worms. I don’t believe in immortal souls or olam haba (“the world to come”) or any other such thing; nor do I have really any sense of “G!d,” other than [a huge other than!] the theological construct about whose axis the entirety of Jewish tradition spins, and many of the world’s other religions also.

Why then was I striving so diligently to find a minyan to say kaddish??

Ah, yes, a good question.

And part of the weirdness of my answer is that I still don’t really know. I don’t quite get it. I think part of the point of this email, what I most want to share in my father’s name, is that it really is ok to trust the tradition, to do things because our parents and grandparents and ancient ancestors did them, and not necessarily fully to have to know why. This sense of commandedness, of internal obligation, is good for us, in ritual spheres as well as in ethical or behavioral ones.

I do also want to express gratitude to the people and institutions that enabled me to say kaddish – to everyone everywhere who makes a minyan, attends a minyan, leads a minyan, organizes a minyan, pays for a minyan. Special thanks to the staff and board members of Hazon and Romemu and others, who willingly formed short impromptu minyanim to let me say kaddish at times when it might have been hard otherwise for me to do so.

I feel especially grateful to the rabbi and community of OZ – Ohab Zedek, at 95th and Amsterdam. OZ is round the corner from our apartment. Of the 408 occasions I said kaddish, exactly 175 were at OZ.

Reb Zalman z”l once memorably compared the orthodox to the heartwood of the tree. The outer rings of the tree are growing and changing, each year. But holding up the tree, the literal core without which the tree would fall, is its heartwood. Reb Zalman said (to a group of the Renewal rabbis and rabbinical students)that we all depend, some or much or most of the time, upon the orthodox for mikvehs, kashrut certification, sefarim (religious books), sofrim (scribes) and so on. People who have striven to say kaddish on their travels are often indebted to the orthodox shuls and minyanim, gabbais, attendees, who make the minyan day in and day out.

OZ is and was remarkable. I have loved the divrei Torah of Rabbi Schwartz, simply learning mishnayot, sequentially, between mincha and ma’ariv. I felt a certain amount of my own anti-orthodox prejudice come into view, during the year, and long before my year of kaddish was over it had softened and changed very considerably. I grew up orthodox, rejected it at 15, and from my early twenties I’ve counted myself as egalitarian, which I still am today. But this year I just soaked back into orthodox davening, and OZ in particular, with openness and gratitude. (And was struck that – remarkably, and not at all what I expected – every single time I davened there, morning or evening, summer or winter, without exception, there was at least one woman there, and quite frequently at least one woman saying kaddish.)

I also have great gratitude at another end of the spectrum. Rabbi David Ingber of Romemu led really beautiful free-form davenings at board meetings and on our Hazon Romemu Sustainable Israel Trip. Standing on a balcony in an orthodox community in Ma’alot, leading a musical egal mincha. Davening with the extraordinary Netanel Goldberg overlooking Machtesh Ramon, at the end of Shabbat. (Months later, again in Mitzpeh, I recall saying kaddish at the end of the rider briefing after we heard the news of the Pittsburgh murders. Very intense.)

We were at a Jim Joseph retreat in the late summer, and Rabbi Amichai Lau-Lavie led a quite remarkable impromptu open davening, almost impossible to describe, riffing off the tradition, building from it, opening to it, exceptionally beautiful. And Lab/Shul created a Kaddish Club which was a really beautiful new form: a group of people coming together for a potluck dinner, sharing memories and experiences of loss, and ending with kaddish. It was an unexpected forum in which to see myself change through the year – at the start of the year a newbie, being welcomed into this new world by those who had been there a little before me. By the end of the year I was the person welcoming those newly experiencing loss.

I similarly loved davening with the Adamahniks, with Shamu or Rebecca (and once with Anna Hanau), outdoors at Isabella Freedman. And one of the most meaningful and memorable was a really incredibly beautiful shacharit with Rabbis Arthur Waskow & Phyllis Berman on the Friday morning of our JOFEE Network Gathering, at Tamarack Camps. Very very strong.

So it is strange. Individually, many of the (relatively few) “meaningful” experiences I had, saying kaddish, were in more creative or less traditional environments. Yet the core of my “practice” was davening at OZ – and behind that at Yael St. in Jerusalem, or Dunstan Road in London.

In the middle of the year Liz made the observation to me that I was davening in these places because these were the places my dad would have davened, the shuls and services he would have found comfortable and familiar; and that whether I knew it or not, whether I intended it or not, I was in a sense connecting with my father, connecting with his memory, connecting with his values and his practice, simply by placing myself in his shoes, by redigging his wells. And I think that was a very astute observation, and maybe that’s the only reason I need.

So I sit here now, looking out at the bare trees of Central Park, the first snows due this weekend.

In the end, this year was a sort of gift from my father. The essential consistency and ubiquity of my saying kaddish – given my absence of belief, my confusions, my inconsistent observance – is entirely a gift from him. The places I went to, the people I met, the way that my sense of the Jewish world broadened was also (and quite ironically) from him – ironic, because he in fact was born and lived and died, very happily, within the few square miles of Jewish north Manchester in which he spent his whole life.

So. Tu B’Shvat. May we mark the new year with new beginnings, new resolutions. Honoring those who came before us. Supporting and encouraging our elders. Remembering the heartwoods of the trees that sustain us, and spreading new life and new light, new seeds and flowers and branches, into the world.

]]>Hazon Detroit: Growth Ring Blessingshttps://hazon.org/hazon-detroit-growth-ring-blessings/
Thu, 17 Jan 2019 20:18:07 +0000http://hazon.org/?p=67762Dear Friends, At sunset this Sunday, January 20th, we will usher in Tu B’Shvat, one of the four new years on the Jewish calendar. Just like our secular calendar has multiple year cycles—think calendar year, fiscal year, school year—so too, our Jewish calendar has multiple year cycles: birth of the world, birth of the Jewish people, the first of Elul, and Tu B’Shvat. Tu B’Shvat, named for its calendrical date – the 15th of Shvat – celebrates the birthday of the trees. Just like our birthdays mark a year of growth for us, in a symbolic way, Tu B’Shvat serves the same purpose for trees, marking another year of their growth. Regardless of when during the year a particular tree was planted in ancient times, its first birthday was always tallied on its first Tu B’Shvat. In this way, Tu B’Shvat might be considered the day when a tree symbolically forms its next ring. We have reached the cold months of winter when, like us, trees actually slow down for a period of internal hibernation. In cold winters, growth within a tree slows to a slogging crawl, before picking back up again when the temperatures rise. In fact, it is […]

At sunset this Sunday, January 20th, we will usher in Tu B’Shvat, one of the four new years on the Jewish calendar. Just like our secular calendar has multiple year cycles—think calendar year, fiscal year, school year—so too, our Jewish calendar has multiple year cycles: birth of the world, birth of the Jewish people, the first of Elul, and Tu B’Shvat. Tu B’Shvat, named for its calendrical date – the 15th of Shvat – celebrates the birthday of the trees. Just like our birthdays mark a year of growth for us, in a symbolic way, Tu B’Shvat serves the same purpose for trees, marking another year of their growth. Regardless of when during the year a particular tree was planted in ancient times, its first birthday was always tallied on its first Tu B’Shvat. In this way, Tu B’Shvat might be considered the day when a tree symbolically forms its next ring.

We have reached the cold months of winter when, like us, trees actually slow down for a period of internal hibernation. In cold winters, growth within a tree slows to a slogging crawl, before picking back up again when the temperatures rise. In fact, it is this ebb and flow of seasonal change, these spurts of heightened growth and rest that actually create the visible rings within trees. Thus, the ring within a tree that grows in a temperate zone, with little to no climate variation, can be almost indistinguishable. It’s only with the slowing and quickening of growth, the hibernation and reawakening, that we are able to see the markings of emergence.

So too with us. Whether in sync with the seasons, or corresponding to our own distinctive rhythms, we all experience ups and downs, ebbs and flows, great joys and unspeakable tragedies, moments of frustration and moments of breakthrough, times of rapid change and extended periods of bated anticipation. Our challenge, then, is to draw upon the wisdom of the trees, and remember when we are in the midst of our dizzying cycles, that our most remarkable and profound growth comes from the fluctuations that define our lives.

Of the Exodus story that we are reading these days in synagogues across the country, our rabbis ask: Why is that we had to go down to Egypt in the first place? If we were headed to the Promised Land anyways, what good did it do to suffer the hardships of mitzrayim/our narrow places along the way? One response: yeridah tzorech aliyah/descent for the sake of ascent. When a person falls away from God, the experience of distance from the Divine spurs that soul’s yearning to return. Falling down is precisely the first step of rising up. We contract in order to expand. We slow in order to grow. The same lesson that the trees teach us, we learn again here. For the full force of our personal, spiritual, and communal growth to take place, we are compelled to embrace the ever-changing nature of our lives. As we prepare for Tu B’Shvat this year, and set out for a meaningful 2019, may we each come to experience the variable cycles of our lives as the growth ring blessings that they truly are.

Here at Hazon, we have taken this message in stride. With new leadership and infinite possibilities for engagement, we have taken the last couple of months to turn a bit inwards, focusing on relationships, perspective, and strategy. Now, as the proverbial sap begins to rise again, we are putting into action the fruits of our reflection. In this newsletter, you will find updates on our Tu B’Shvat seder, celebrations of past Seal of Sustainability projects, congratulations to our newest cohort in the Seal of Sustainability, some exciting press of our higher welfare meat and eggs initiative, save the dates for an amazing new young adult Shabbat collaboration and the 4th Annual Hazon Michigan Food Festival, and a teaser to keep your eyes peeled for our newly reimagined CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) program, coming this spring. We hope that as we take steps into this new year, you will join us along the way.

]]>Hakhel Spotlight: Kehila Ivrit Amsterdamhttps://hazon.org/hakhel-spotlight-kehila-ivrit-amsterdam/
Tue, 15 Jan 2019 16:35:36 +0000http://hazon.org/?p=67726Kehila was established by Israelis living in the Netherlands who teamed up to create a joint framework for cultural, social, and educational activities in the Hebrew language. Kehila is based on its members’ active participation and involvement in the spirit of pluralism and cooperation. Indeed, in the context of intentional communities, this is very obvious to expect people to give a hand and carry out all community needs and ventures, but, still this community is revolutionary for many of the members. Fans of community life see the power of devotion so clearly. Volunteering, co-creating is so basic. And yet, there are so many people out there who fear this level of intimacy, who rarely dare to step in a social circle. It is mainly fear which holds people back from attaching, not ideology. And there you go, a group of Israeli parents who can’t stand aloneness any more and feel the need of warmth and tribal power as part of their parenthood. They live the ultimate urban life Amsterdam has to offer, they are not used to being part of anything. For many of them, this step was confronting and scary. Once you feel how much love and warmth melt […]

]]>Kehila was established by Israelis living in the Netherlands who teamed up to create a joint framework for cultural, social, and educational activities in the Hebrew language. Kehila is based on its members’ active participation and involvement in the spirit of pluralism and cooperation. Indeed, in the context of intentional communities, this is very obvious to expect people to give a hand and carry out all community needs and ventures, but, still this community is revolutionary for many of the members.

Fans of community life see the power of devotion so clearly. Volunteering, co-creating is so basic. And yet, there are so many people out there who fear this level of intimacy, who rarely dare to step in a social circle. It is mainly fear which holds people back from attaching, not ideology. And there you go, a group of Israeli parents who can’t stand aloneness any more and feel the need of warmth and tribal power as part of their parenthood. They live the ultimate urban life Amsterdam has to offer, they are not used to being part of anything. For many of them, this step was confronting and scary. Once you feel how much love and warmth melt you down, your resistance goes down as well. Seven years of educational and social work has turned people’s lives upside down. After some of them have tried to connect with other Jewish frameworks and been rejected because they are ‘too secular’, they could hardly believe there is a community where they will ever feel at home. Surprising yourself has always been the best key for growth, and that is what many of the members say: Couldn’t believe I would ever feel home again after leaving Israel. Community life serves the individual, as we already know. So just imagine what it does to one who couldn’t believe such a possibility exists. Revolution at its best.

In short: 65 families, Sunday School, Jewish holidays, all activities held in Hebrew, serving Israelis in the Amsterdam region.

Kehila is a Hakhel community. Learn more about Hakhel – the first-of-its-kind Jewish Intentional Communities Incubator

]]>Tu B’Shvat: Bonna Haberman, MLK, Jim Joseph and my Dad…https://hazon.org/tubshvat-bonna-haberman-mlk-jim-joseph-my-dad/
Thu, 10 Jan 2019 09:00:17 +0000http://hazon.org/?p=67780Thursday, January 10, 2019 | 4 Shvat 5779 by Nigel Savage Dear All, My first Tu B’Shvat seder was with Bonna and Shmuel Haberman Browns, in London, in 1986. Bonna z”l was an amazing woman, who died too young. (This was my tribute to her that The Forward published at the time of her death.) It was memorable and beautiful enough that I hosted or attended a seder every year from then until last year. And then last year, half an hour after we got back from my 33rd annual Tu B’Shvat seder, my mother phoned to say that my father had died. So Tu B’Shvat has always been important to me, and its implicit themes about cycles of life have now been reinforced for me by the inextricable ways that its memory is bound up for me in memories of my Dad and of Bonna. Eight years ago Devora Joseph Davey gave us funding, through the foundation created in her father’s name, to create a Tu B’Shvat haggadah, and we’ve republished that every year since. This year, both in honor of my father, and because Tu B’Shvat in 2019 falls on MLK weekend, we’ve substantially revised our haggadah. Lisa Kaplan, Elan Margulies, David […]

by Nigel Savage

Dear All,

My first Tu B’Shvat seder was with Bonna and Shmuel Haberman Browns, in London, in 1986. Bonna z”l was an amazing woman, who died too young. (This was my tribute to her that The Forward published at the time of her death.) It was memorable and beautiful enough that I hosted or attended a seder every year from then until last year. And then last year, half an hour after we got back from my 33rd annual Tu B’Shvat seder, my mother phoned to say that my father had died. So Tu B’Shvat has always been important to me, and its implicit themes about cycles of life have now been reinforced for me by the inextricable ways that its memory is bound up for me in memories of my Dad and of Bonna.

Eight years ago Devora Joseph Davey gave us funding, through the foundation created in her father’s name, to create a Tu B’Shvat haggadah, and we’ve republished that every year since. This year, both in honor of my father, and because Tu B’Shvat in 2019 falls on MLK weekend, we’ve substantially revised our haggadah. Lisa Kaplan, Elan Margulies, David Rendsburg, and Rabbi Isaiah Rothstein led the charge, and my great thanks go to all of them. (Pre-order the haggadah by Monday, January 14th to receive your copies in time for Tu B’Shvat.)

But the single last thing I want to say: Tu B’Shvat isn’t just for kids. It’s not just fruit and nuts. It comes to remind us of our connection to the natural world and of our connection to the land of Israel. So if you do nothing else, on the evening of Sunday, January 20th (when Tu B’Shvat begins), just gather with family and friends, eat a good meal, and think about – and discuss – those two topics.

And may we remember, for a blessing, all those who nourished us and led us to this moment.

]]>What is Tu B’Shvat and Why Do We Celebrate It?https://hazon.org/what-is-tu-bshvat-and-why-do-we-celebrate-it/
Wed, 09 Jan 2019 09:00:50 +0000http://hazon.org/?p=67782by Nigel Savage Introduction to the new Hazon Tu B’Shvat Haggadah You can trace the recent history of Tu B’Shvat seders like branches on a tree. The first one I went to, in London in 1986, was hosted by Bonna Haberman z”l and Shmuel Browns, mentors to me and many others in the renewal of Jewish ritual. I made my own seder the following Tu B’Shvat, and I’ve made or attended one every year since. Seders, like trees, grow branches, and the branches sprout fruit in all directions. Historical Roots The roots of Tu B’Shvat stretch back to the beginnings of organized Jewish life. We learn from the Mishnah (Tractate Rosh Hashanah) that “the New Year of the Trees” divided the tithing of one year’s crop from the next – the end and start of the tax year, so to speak. After the expulsion from the Land of Israel, Tu B’Shvat went underground, like a seed, ungerminated, lying beneath the soil of Jewish thought and life. The expulsion from Spain in 1492 scattered Jews in many directions, and some landed in Tzfat. Like a forest fire that cracks open seeds dormant for decades, Tzfat’s kabbalists rediscovered Tu B’Shvat and began […]

You can trace the recent history of Tu B’Shvat seders like branches on a tree. The first one I went to, in London in 1986, was hosted by Bonna Haberman z”l and Shmuel Browns, mentors to me and many others in the renewal of Jewish ritual.

I made my own seder the following Tu B’Shvat, and I’ve made or attended one every year since. Seders, like trees, grow branches, and the branches sprout fruit in all directions.

Historical Roots

The roots of Tu B’Shvat stretch back to the beginnings of organized Jewish life. We learn from the Mishnah (Tractate Rosh Hashanah) that “the New Year of the Trees” divided the tithing of one year’s crop from the next – the end and start of the tax year, so to speak. After the expulsion from the Land of Israel, Tu B’Shvat went underground, like a seed, ungerminated, lying beneath the soil of Jewish thought and life.

The expulsion from Spain in 1492 scattered Jews in many directions, and some landed in Tzfat. Like a forest fire that cracks open seeds dormant for decades, Tzfat’s kabbalists rediscovered Tu B’Shvat and began a period of mystical celebration of the festival. The idea and structure of Tu B’Shvat seders traces back to them.

Among early Zionists, Tu B’Shvat became the day to celebrate their reconnection to the land. As a kid in Manchester, I got JNF tree certificates at Tu B’Shvat and Israeli school kids to this day celebrate it by planting trees.

The fourth phase of Tu B’Shvat’s flowering was pollinated by the first Earth Day in 1970 and by growing alarm at the degradation of the planet’s resources. Its ground was fertilized by the countercultural havurah movement, and the beginnings of an upsurge in Jewish renewal and creativity.

The Modern Seder

Each of us can draw upon these roots to sprout our own branches, seeds, and fruits.

The origins of Tu B’Shvat remind us that we are the descendants of an indigenous people, heirs to an ancient wisdom whose echoes can inform our choices today on subjects like how to eat in a manner that is healthy for us and sustainable for the whole planet, or how to rest in a 24/7 world.

The kabbalistic Tu B’Shvat of Tzfat encourages us to open ourselves to mystery, wonder, creativity, and celebration; this is an oral wisdom, something learned from others, rather than from books. Naomi Shemer’s contemporary song, “Shirat Ha’Asavim,” is based on a Reb Nachman story about angels encouraging each blade of grass simply to grow. The spreading in many parts of the Jewish world of drums, yoga, and meditation is part of this phenomenon.

So, too, is the way that “Od Yavo Shalom Aleinu,” written originally by the Israeli band Sheva, has become this generation’s anthem. The peaceful and the joyous in Jewish life are being rediscovered. Tu B’Shvat is a moment to celebrate new life and new beginnings, physical and cultural.

The Zionists’ Tu B’Shvat prompts us to think afresh about the assumption that the era when Jews were connected physically to the land is over, with Israel now a country of venture capitalists and MBAs. Kibbutzim like Lotan and Ketura, among others, are renewing that connection with the land, and although agriculture is shrinking, there is growing awareness of the need to preserve the environment.

Kosher organic farms and educational gardens are spreading across North America, and there is a deepening move in American Jewish life toward reconnecting with the land in a variety of ways. Tu B’Shvat is a fine time to think about creating a community garden at your synagogue – or exploring Israel on a bike or by foot rather than by car.

Tu B’Shvat today helps us see in miniature the broader shape of contemporary Jewish renewal. It is one of the clearest examples of the rebirth of rooted Jewish life after the Shoah. The charred site of a forest fire slowly gives birth to new growth, and 40 or 50 years later a new forest stands in its place. Each of the elements of that forest grows literally from seeds that survived the fire, yet the forest itself has its own unique characteristics.

Today’s Tu B’Shvat seders grow organically from more than 2,000 years of Jewish tradition; yet the vital elements of them are new and reflect the world we live in. The encounter of post-modern urban life with contemporary environmental challenges is renewing Jewish life in unanticipated ways. It is an opportunity to deepen our roots, and to branch out afresh to engage the world.

Tu B’Shvat Today

In 2019, Tu B’Shvat falls over Martin Luther King Weekend. It is an opportunity for us to turn Tu B’Shvat outwards. Tu B’Shvat is not just for kids. It is a time for us all to speak up and speak out.

We’re dealing right now with immense global and civilizational challenges. Ten of the hottest years in human history happened in the last fifteen years. We’re suffering extreme weather events with increasing frequency, and the human toll is considerable, including the record number of deaths and the four Jewish camps that burned down in the recent California fires. And the future toll may be far, far worse. Species extinction is at record levels. The icecaps are melting. Asthma rates are going up very sharply. Industrial meat production is inhumane to animals, unhealthy for humans, and a huge contributor to anthropogenic climate change.

We’re physically abusing the world that sustains us, and every country, every human culture, and every religion now needs to address these issues. We have a clear moral obligation to address these issues. Tu B’Shvat comes to remind us to do so.

]]>One Water, All Lives: Teva Over Greenlandhttps://hazon.org/one-water-all-lives-teva-over-greenland/
Mon, 31 Dec 2018 15:14:34 +0000http://hazon.org/?p=67564By Mike Tintner 2018 Teva Educator On the plane flying from Moscow to New York City, returning from Israel, I had the chance to bless. After standing up for the first time in hours on the long flight I stumbled to the window, where I saw a spectacular sight. For as far as my eyes could see was white. Below me were the glaciers of Greenland I have seen so many times on the news and in documentaries. I met someone wearing a black kippah journeying from Israel to New York for his sister’s wedding. We talked about the blessing of beauty, Maaseh Breshit, and proceeded to say the full Hebrew blessing. I told the Orthodox appearing man about my work teaching the connection between Judaism and nature to kids at Teva. As I said these words I wondered what he must think. First: There is such a program? Second: What qualifies you to teach this? The truth is I was the one judging myself. I usually am proud of my work and sometimes I struggle to explain it. In my 107 seasons on Earth, I have witnessed a lot. I have been part of the movement of water protectors […]

On the plane flying from Moscow to New York City, returning from Israel, I had the chance to bless. After standing up for the first time in hours on the long flight I stumbled to the window, where I saw a spectacular sight. For as far as my eyes could see was white. Below me were the glaciers of Greenland I have seen so many times on the news and in documentaries.

I met someone wearing a black kippah journeying from Israel to New York for his sister’s wedding. We talked about the blessing of beauty, Maaseh Breshit, and proceeded to say the full Hebrew blessing. I told the Orthodox appearing man about my work teaching the connection between Judaism and nature to kids at Teva. As I said these words I wondered what he must think. First: There is such a program? Second: What qualifies you to teach this?

The truth is I was the one judging myself.

I usually am proud of my work and sometimes I struggle to explain it. In my 107 seasons on Earth, I have witnessed a lot. I have been part of the movement of water protectors working to stop the pipelines being placed across the world, along with other efforts to protect the planet from environmental destruction. I have filmed interviews with many people about protecting their homes, indigenous land, the water, and the Earth for future generations.

Seeing the ice caps, glaciers, and snow in Greenland through the airplane window gave me a new appreciation for the struggle at hand. I tell Teva groups I lead to the mountains of Northwestern Connecticut about the importance of watersheds. We talk about how the Housatonic River is nearby, and the fact the watershed they are standing on is called Housatonic watershed. I instruct them to think about a single drop of water. They’ll point to one and follow it as long as they can.

I am taken back to an experience a couple of weeks earlier. We are standing at the base of a fast flowing stream powered by the recent rainfall and two Teva groups have just met up to look at this awesome sight. “Sababa” yells a student. An Arabic word used in Hebrew to mean ‘awesome.’ This is the signal someone found something everyone needs to see. We talk about the water cycle with the students, having them figure out the four stages of the water cycle. We teach a reluctant group of sixth graders the “water cycle boogie.”

The moral is the water they see at that spot will flow mostly into the pond known as Lake Miriam. From there into Lake Phil. Continuing to flow from Lake Phil down a small stream on

Johnson Road into a child’s pond. Continuing from that small pond into the Housatonic River. The river will empty into Long Island Sound…

The way we treat the water here directly affects the water in your home. What we do matters!

As I write this we are leaving Greenland and flying over the vast ocean once again. The ocean is filled with beauty and mystery. The ocean also holds a great irony: it is rising. It is also acidifying. It is also warming.

The plane I am flying on is spewing carbon dioxide from burning jet fuel. this fuel was taken from deep within the ground and is currently being burnt above the ice caps causing them to melt faster than normal. And in turn, raising the sea level. I just learned a lesson: what I do here affects the water everywhere.

Back at Isabella Freedman as the sun rises I stare at a foggy Lake Phil. The water is calm and partially frozen. Many groups of kids are coming today. In a few hours, this place will be transformed. A bustle of excited energy. Games, hiking, singing, even a resource revolution all about take place. There’ll be many Sababas found, many wows as children get their first view of the Overlook. Shema maps will be drawn, fires will be lit, trails will be hiked. Because of the week to come and many others like it, young people have a better chance to truly appreciate what the Teva of this world provides. These humans will soon know what they are and always have been…

]]>Blessing Family & The Earth | D’varim HaMakom: The JOFEE Fellows Bloghttps://hazon.org/vayechi_2018/
Fri, 21 Dec 2018 21:26:50 +0000http://hazon.org/?p=67493Jared Kaminsky – Shoresh Parshat Vayechi In only 3 short months, I’ll be turning 30 years old! I was recently married, and purchased a home, and feel that I have made a massive leap into adulthood. I will one day, G-d willing, start a family and have children of my own. It will be my responsibility to pass on teachings to my children (and grandchildren) that reflect my values. This is a HUGE responsibility! They will see me as a guide and role model for how to act in the world. What will I share with them? What type of father, grandfather, neighbour, and citizen will I be in their eyes? In this week’s parsha, Vayechi, Jacob is nearing the end of his life and he decides to pass on his final wishes and blessings to his own family. He asks his son Joseph to bury him in Israel. He also blesses Joseph’s sons Ephraim and Manasseh elevating them to be considered his own sons and heads of tribes one day within Israel. In addition, Jacob provides individual blessings to the rest of his sons, each of whom will be leaders among their tribes. My grandfather is one of the […]

In only 3 short months, I’ll be turning 30 years old! I was recently married, and purchased a home, and feel that I have made a massive leap into adulthood. I will one day, G-d willing, start a family and have children of my own. It will be my responsibility to pass on teachings to my children (and grandchildren) that reflect my values.

This is a HUGE responsibility! They will see me as a guide and role model for how to act in the world. What will I share with them? What type of father, grandfather, neighbour, and citizen will I be in their eyes?

In this week’s parsha, Vayechi, Jacob is nearing the end of his life and he decides to pass on his final wishes and blessings to his own family. He asks his son Joseph to bury him in Israel. He also blesses Joseph’s sons Ephraim and Manasseh elevating them to be considered his own sons and heads of tribes one day within Israel.

In addition, Jacob provides individual blessings to the rest of his sons, each of whom will be leaders among their tribes.

My grandfather is one of the elder statesman of our family and passes on his own blessings to his progeny. Recently, I visited my grandparents in Buffalo for American Thanksgiving. This trip is always a highlight of my year. My grandparents open their home to our whole extended family and create a warm, welcoming, loving environment.

My grandfather has provided guidance and teachings to all of us grandchildren passing on his (and my grandmothers) values. One of our family Thanksgiving traditions (which includes a game of poker where we all wear funny hats) is to go around the table and share something for which we are grateful. This is followed by my grandfather standing over his progeny and reciting the Cohen blessing:

The LORD bless you and protect you!

The LORD deal kindly and graciously with you!

The LORD bestow His favor upon you and grant you peace!

The author’s grandfather, Dr. Len Katz, giving the Cohen blessing to he and his bride at their wedding | photo: Jocelyn Reynolds

As we learn in this parsha, the tradition of blessings your descendents was practiced by our forefather Jacob. Each of Jacob’s sons have different character traits and work responsibilities. For example, Simeon is a school teacher, Gad is a soldier. The sons receive blessings according to their work or character.

Notably, five of Jacob’s sons have roles connected to the land and agriculture. For example, Asher’s blessing is for an abundance of olive oil, and Judah was blessed for an abundance of wine and milk. I feel that my role both personally and professionally is to be a responsible steward of the natural world. I will pass on these values to my future family so we are protecting the world for generations to come. I am guided by the by Jewish values of L’ovdah u’l’shomrah (to work and protect), Kehillah (community), and Tzedek, tzedek, tirdof (justice, justice you shall pursue).

I put my values into practice by working for Shoresh Jewish Environmental Programs. At Shoresh, we educate, inspire, and empower our community to be shomrei adamah. We are working to create a healthier, greener future. In 2017, we planted 11,000 trees at Bela Farm creating a forest for the future that will provide valuable animal habitat, clean air, and a beautiful native forest that will root our community in our local green spaces for generations to come.

Planting the forest for the future at Bela Farm, Shoresh’s home for land based Judaism | photo:Sabrina Malach

My plea to you is to be shomrei adamah, protectors of the earth, and pass on these values and teachings to your children and your children’s children.

Jacob was a leader in his family who made a difference and impacted his children lives. We all have the responsibility to repair the world and must act NOW!

Jared Kaminsky is the Director of Program for Shoresh Jewish Environmental Programs in Toronto, ON. He spends his weekends wandering deep in the forests of Ontario. He is passionate about working to further Shoresh’s mission to educate, empower, and inspire our community to embrace our role as, Shomrei Adamah, protectors of the earth. Read his full bio here.

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Editor’s Note: Welcome to D’varim HaMakom: The JOFEE Fellows Blog! Most weeks throughout the year, you’ll be hearing from the JOFEE Fellows: reflections on their experiences, successful programs they’ve planned and implemented, gleanings from the field, and connections to the weekly Torah portion and what they’ve learned from their experiences with place in their host communities for the year. Views expressed are the author’s and do not necessarily represent Hazon. Be sure to check back weekly!

]]>Hazon Perspective: Farm Bill Updatehttps://hazon.org/hazon-perspective-farm-bill-update/
Mon, 17 Dec 2018 17:00:13 +0000http://hazon.org/?p=67413Our tradition teaches us to open up the corners of our harvest through pe’ah and to attune ourselves to the needs of land for rest and restoration through shmita. We at Hazon are therefore greatly relieved that the recently passed Farm Bill maintains food assistance access for those in need rather than imposing draconian work requirements and that it preserves programs that incentivize farmers to reduce erosion and increase soil carbon. The shift to an incoming house of representatives that is more committed to preserving food assistance and conservation funding after the 2018 midterm elections pressured the current congress to pass a farm bill that is more of a status quo than the conservation-slashing, poverty-worsening revamp that many in the house pushed for this summer. Thanks to high voter turnout in November and a huge wave of phone calls to our representatives from farmers and eaters alike, small but crucial programs will be funded rather than eliminated including organic research, the local agriculture market program, and supports for beginning and socially disadvantaged farmers. Another huge win is that, despite a few concessions to the timber industry, the push toward legalizing expanded clear cutting was not included in the bill. And yet the relief […]

]]>Our tradition teaches us to open up the corners of our harvest through pe’ah and to attune ourselves to the needs of land for rest and restoration through shmita. We at Hazon are therefore greatly relieved that the recently passed Farm Bill maintains food assistance access for those in need rather than imposing draconian work requirements and that it preserves programs that incentivize farmers to reduce erosion and increase soil carbon.

The shift to an incoming house of representatives that is more committed to preserving food assistance and conservation funding after the 2018 midterm elections pressured the current congress to pass a farm bill that is more of a status quo than the conservation-slashing, poverty-worsening revamp that many in the house pushed for this summer. Thanks to high voter turnout in November and a huge wave of phone calls to our representatives from farmers and eaters alike, small but crucial programs will be funded rather than eliminated including organic research, the local agriculture market program, and supports for beginning and socially disadvantaged farmers. Another huge win is that, despite a few concessions to the timber industry, the push toward legalizing expanded clear cutting was not included in the bill.

And yet the relief is tempered. The bill cuts long-term funding to the Conservation Stewardship Program and it expands loopholes in subsidy payments to the operators of the wealthiest mega-farms and their non-farming family members. Climate change denial is threaded throughout as the bill fails to restructure our food system in favor of mitigation and adaptation.

Hazon’s Jewish missions of sustainability, health for all, and climate justice yoke us to the enormous task of staying engaged with an ever changing and chaotic legislative scene. The 2018 Farm Bill is a vast improvement over what we could have ended up with this year with respect to our Jewish values of providing a hunger safety net in our communities and farming in tune with the needs of land and animals. We at Hazon are grateful to all of our constituents who called their legislators and who got out the vote in November.

]]>Big News: Extending the Adamah Farm & Increasing Capacity at Isabella Freedmanhttps://hazon.org/big-news-isabella-freedman-capacity/
Fri, 14 Dec 2018 14:08:12 +0000http://hazon.org/?p=67371By Nigel Savage Thursday, December 13, 2018 | 5 Tevet 5779 Dear All, With strong active staff and lay involvement, and support from Project Accelerate, Hazon’s board earlier this year signed off on a new master plan for Isabella Freedman. Isabella Freedman is a place that touches people’s lives individually and strengthens and thickens Jewish institutions. Through Adamah, Teva, the Hazon Food Conference, and our other national retreats it has had a profound impact across the American Jewish community. As Jessica Haller, one of our senior board members, says, “there are some places that do some of the things that this place does, but there are no other places that do all of the things that this place does.” So the master plan is critical not only to Isabella Freedman and Hazon but also, in fact, to the future of the American Jewish community. Isabella Freedman is a place where magic happens – but we need to increase capacity; we need to improve the quality and range of our accommodation and meeting space; and we also need more land to be able to grow our flagship Adamah program, and to enable us to use the land itself more lightly and more carefully. Happily, we believe that […]

Isabella Freedman is a place that touches people’s lives individually and strengthens and thickens Jewish institutions. Through Adamah, Teva, the Hazon Food Conference, and our other national retreats it has had a profound impact across the American Jewish community. As Jessica Haller, one of our senior board members, says, “there are some places that do some of the things that this place does, but there are no other places that do all of the things that this place does.”

So the master plan is critical not only to Isabella Freedman and Hazon but also, in fact, to the future of the American Jewish community. Isabella Freedman is a place where magic happens – but we need to increase capacity; we need to improve the quality and range of our accommodation and meeting space; and we also need more land to be able to grow our flagship Adamah program, and to enable us to use the land itself more lightly and more carefully.

Happily, we believe that we are now on track to start to accomplish all of these goals!

The very first phase of this is to acquire additional property and land right outside Isabella Freedman. It will add new rooms to Isabella Freedman. It will add a new beautiful meeting space. It will earn money for us going forward. And it will add 31 acres to our campus – including, critically, 15 acres that are contiguous with our existing Adamah farm.

Through the generosity of board members and supporters, we now have pledges of $764,500 towards the cost of this purchase. The total cost will be c$1.3m. We have significant naming opportunities available. If you or your family would like to support us in this endeavor – if you would like to give us a gift, as large as you possibly can, please click here to do so, or be in touch directly with me at nigel@hazon.org, or with Richard Slutzky, chair of our Campaign for the Future at cftf@hazon.org.

]]>Light In The Dark | D’varim HaMakom: The JOFEE Fellows Bloghttps://hazon.org/vayeishev2018/
Fri, 30 Nov 2018 17:23:42 +0000http://hazon.org/?p=67203Ilana Unger – Pearlstone Center Parshat Vayeishev In parshat Vayeishev (Genesis 37:1-40:23), lands on the third Shabbat of Kislev, we connect deeply to this Jewish month of actualization and revelation. For example: Vayeishev is the Hebrew word for “and he lived” (actualization) and nine out of the ten dreams that we read in the Torah are in this month (revelation). To recap the many things that happen in this parsha: Joseph is exiled and sold into slavery in Egypt by his brothers. Joseph is then falsely accused of sexually assaulting Potiphar’s wife and is sent to the Pharaoh’s prison where he becomes an overseer in the prison. He is joined in prison by the Pharaoh’s butler and baker. They say they have had vivid dreams and are looking for an interpreter. Joseph interprets their dreams and accurately does so, predicting that the baker be hanged while the butler will be restored to his job duties. As Joseph is literally in a dark place in the prison, he is selfless and wants to hear and listen to how he can help the butler and baker. Kislev, which derives from the Hebrew word kesel (כֶּסֶל), means either “security,” or “trust.” Joseph seems to […]

In parshat Vayeishev (Genesis 37:1-40:23), lands on the third Shabbat of Kislev, we connect deeply to this Jewish month of actualization and revelation. For example: Vayeishev is the Hebrew word for “and he lived” (actualization) and nine out of the ten dreams that we read in the Torah are in this month (revelation).

To recap the many things that happen in this parsha:

Joseph is exiled and sold into slavery in Egypt by his brothers.

Joseph is then falsely accused of sexually assaulting Potiphar’s wife and is sent to the Pharaoh’s prison where he becomes an overseer in the prison.

He is joined in prison by the Pharaoh’s butler and baker. They say they have had vivid dreams and are looking for an interpreter.

Joseph interprets their dreams and accurately does so, predicting that the baker be hanged while the butler will be restored to his job duties.

As Joseph is literally in a dark place in the prison, he is selfless and wants to hear and listen to how he can help the butler and baker. Kislev, which derives from the Hebrew word kesel (כֶּסֶל), means either “security,” or “trust.” Joseph seems to be very trusting of his brothers and look where it lands him: exiled in Egypt. He lives and helps those around him, when he could be complaining about the situation he is in.

Joseph outlives many of the obstacles that he is confronted with and I am reminded of the Yiddish saying,”Mir veln zey iberlebn,” or “we will outlive them.” We too are faced with many obstacles as a country and Jewish community. I ask myself and you as a reader, where are we selfless in dark times? What does it mean to be selfless?

In a time of great darkness in our world, our communities and quite literally outside our windows, how do we manifest light in this darkness?

I’ve been thinking about this question a lot recently. As our month of Kislev is ending, the darkest time of the darkest month of the year, our light must shine even that much brighter. As a JOFEE educator, what does it mean for me to be a light in the darkness?

Oil lamps made from mud gathered at nearby Sycamore creek during Pearlstone’s Tiyul Adventure Year program | photo: Ilana Unger

As the season is slowing down here at Pearlstone we have had time as a staff to do some skill building in preparation of year round programming we run. Tiyul Adventure Year is a program we run seasonally on Sundays for 2nd-6th graders as a way to awaken their senses outdoors through storytelling, food, music and ancient sacred skills.

As a staff we wanted to focus on creating light in this dark time so we decided to make oil lamps with mud from our Sycamore Creek on the Pearlstone campus. We used our hands to create a vessel of light to shine during these dark times. As an outdoor educator working the land, creating something to spread light meant a lot to me. Our land is slowing down, our work is slowing down and we as fast paced ever moving people are slowing down.

As Joseph was in a dark place, we too are in a dark place.

Vayeishev: And he lived.

Mir veln zey iberlebn: we will outlive them.

Joseph lived as we too shall live. As Hanukkah is approaching, let us be a light in our communities, in our world and for ourselves.

Ilana Unger grew up both in Vermont and Colorado and was a fellow at Urban Adamah and program associate at Hazon Detroit before coming to Pearlstone Center as a JOFEE Fellow. Outside of work she is an outdoor enthusiast and enjoys meditating, running, hiking, biking, skiing, cooking delicious food, and spending time with the beautiful people in her life. Read her full bio here.

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Editor’s Note: Welcome to D’varim HaMakom: The JOFEE Fellows Blog! Most weeks throughout the year, you’ll be hearing from the JOFEE Fellows: reflections on their experiences, successful programs they’ve planned and implemented, gleanings from the field, and connections to the weekly Torah portion and what they’ve learned from their experiences with place in their host communities for the year. Views expressed are the author’s and do not necessarily represent Hazon. Be sure to check back weekly!